


Imbroglio

by Magicienne



Category: HEYER Georgette - Works, Sylvester or the Wicked Uncle - Georgette Heyer
Genre: Banter, Bickering, F/M, Love, Married Couple, Regency, Romance, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:52:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicienne/pseuds/Magicienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Duchess and Duke of Salford are enjoying their married life, but a misunderstanding brings out the worst in both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imbroglio

His Grace the Duke of Salford arrived at Chance in his chaise and four. A second, a little less elegant vehicle followed him. He had been at Blanford Park for the last week where he had unexpectedly met an old friend and her husband. They had just returned from a prolonged stay in France and Sylvester had spontaneously invited the couple to spend some time with him at Chance.

Richard had seemed a little reluctant, but Julie had been instantly delighted and so the matter was decided.  
Sylvester’s old and loyal butler Reeth opened the huge entrance door and welcomed the duke and his guests into the house.  
“Your Grace.” he said indignantly. “We were not expecting you back for another week. If you had apprised us of your plans to come home earlier and bring visitors with you, we would have had everything ready for your Grace’s return.”  
“Reeth,” said Sylvester mockingly. “Are you trying to tell me, that my wife has let the house fall into utter disorder in my absence? If that is the case, be assured that I will believe you did your best to prevent the worst.”  
“Certainly not, Sir. Everything is in order of course, I merely…”  
But Sylvester stopped him laughingly and asked.  
“By the way, where is my wife?”  
With a quick glance at their guests, the butler coughed a little uncomfortable and said:  
“Ahem, Her Grace is not _in the house_ at the moment.”  
The duke’s guests found this information more than a little confusing and in fact quite odd, but his grace of Salford seemed perfectly satisfied with the butler’s answer and smiled knowingly.

“Reeth, why don’t you show our guest up to their rooms.” He beckoned Julie and Richard to follow Reeth into the house, so they could get some rest before dinner was served.  
Sylvester however, who had correctly interpreted his butler’s discreet hint walked towards the stables. There he found his wife grooming the horse he had given her as a gift last month.  
She was standing with her back towards him and did not hear him come in.  
He stood there and watched her for a moment or two and finally said in a mocking tone.  
“I collect, that you must be the new stable hand. But I was actually looking for my wife – have you seen her?”  
Phoebe whirled around, an expression of delighted surprise on her face. She flung herself into his arms and said.  
“Sylvester! You are home already. Oh, how I have missed you, Love.”  
Not unnaturally pleased by this very handsome greeting, the Duke wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her lovingly.  
He then looked down at her and exclaimed.  
“Where in heaven did you find this gown? You look positively shabby, my Darling. Oh no, and now you managed to get Hoyden’s hair all over my clothes as well.” His dismay was betrayed however by the fact, that he kept his arms tightly wrapped around his shabby wife.  
“Well, if you feel yourself above that, I have to add, that I find your conduct, _my Lord Duke_ , also very unbecoming. Making up to me in the stables like that, indeed.” and with these words, she playfully and without much resolution tried to disengage herself from him. He laughed at her struggles and tightened his grip around her waist.

It was at that moment, when Mr. Richard Beauford entered the stables in search of his groom and found His Grace, the Duke of Salford in a compromising situation with what was obviously one of the maids or some other female servant.  
Mr. Richard Beauford, who was not accustomed to the ways of the nobility and disapproved very much of their lax morals - was utterly shocked. He felt, that he could not very well tell the Duke in his own house, how he was to conduct himself, but what he definitely could do, was to show his disapproval.  
“Forgive me.” he said acidly. “Am I interrupting something?”  
While the girl at least had the decency to blush, the duke did not show any embarrassment at all and did not even release the girl from his embrace.  
Sylvester met Mr. Beauford’s disgusted look with some amusement and returned his attention to the girl.  
“See how you still manage to blacken my reputation? Now I am being accused of making up to the maids of all things.”  
“Oh, hush.” said the girl and blushed even more. “You are quite abominable, Sylvester.”  
She then freed herself from her husband’s embrace and turned towards Beauford.  
“I beg your pardon, Sir. You must excuse my appearance.” she said. “I was not aware that we had guests.” she then cast an impatient look at her husband, who seemed to be rather enjoying the situation.  
“Oh,” he said, as if he had briefly forgotten what was expected of him. “Beauford, may I present you my wife, the Duchess of Salford? Phoebe, this is Mr. Beauford.”  
Now it was Mr. Beauford’s turn to be utterly embarrassed. He stammered an incoherent apology and was clearly at a loss for words.  
But Phoebe just laughed and said, that it was of no consequence and that she would now take herself of to make herself more presentable.  
Sylvester welcomed this suggestion very much and asked her to throw the gown she presently wore away.

**Author's Note:**

> Sylvester and Phoebe are my favorite GH couple and I have been wanting to write about them for a long time.  
> So here finally is my first chapter... more to come!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this first chapter and any comments are always very welcome!
> 
> Thanks, Magicienne


End file.
